


As If I Could Ever Forget You

by bluemoongirl99



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Flashbacks, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Mental Illness, Rape/Non-con Elements, The fall of panic, Unhealthy Relationship (past not present), implied childhood abuse, more to be added - Freeform, unhealthy coping mechanism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-18 05:07:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9369305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluemoongirl99/pseuds/bluemoongirl99
Summary: “I love you,” Pete blurted out.The silence that followed was deafening. “Fuck you,” Ryan finally spoke up, shooting venom into his words. “Fuck you,” he repeated. “Is this a joke? Because it’s really not funny.”Pete stood up, and walked slowly over to Ryan, making his motions as careful and non-threatening as possible. “I love you.”“Stop,” Ryan said, turning away from him. He hated how his voice came out pathetic and broken. “You don’t get to just come in here after five fucking years and just-” He waved his arms around. “And say you love me. That doesn’t mean shit, Pete.”Based off of this tweet:https://twitter.com/petewentz/status/794988164901261312





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wellthisisprettyrisque (collettephinz)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/collettephinz/gifts).



> Gonna be posted in two parts, with a following epilogue. 
> 
> Fuck where do I even begin. This fic was such a passion project for me. I fell in love the ship, and all the tumultuous background that came with them, especially all the _Panic!_ drama. I had to do so much research timeline wise because I was super rusty, and not too familiar with all the history and events that went down in early _Panic!_ and _FOB_ years. I had to watch so many old 'probably shot with a potato' interviews. 
> 
> I have to give the biggest fucking thanks to [Lettie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/collettephinz) though. She was encouraging of the fic and never let me stop. She answered every single timeline questions I had with ease. She listened to me whining about character interpretation, accuracies, and all that jazz. Not to mention corrected anywhere in the history I went super wrong.
> 
> That being said - I'm sure I fucked up some things. Just kind of go with the timeline. Suspend your disbelief, like, a lot, like, fucking suspend it to a different planet if you will. 
> 
> Betad by the beautiful, wickedly talented, [Immi](https://twitter.com/immi_wright)

_The tweet that started it all:_

“Why did you tweet that?” Ryan’s voice rang over the phone. His breaths were ragged, and he knew that his voice probably sounded manic as he demanded an answer from Pete. He hadn’t even given him time to properly answer the phone. 

“Because it’s true,” Pete responded, his voice calm. 

“But-” Ryan interrupted, practically tearing at his hair. “But- but now people know that you talk- that you-” 

“I’m not ashamed of you,” Pete told him softly. “I made a lot of mistakes, but I-” He took a moment. “I’m not ashamed of you.” 

“You know Brendon’s going to passive aggressively address this on twitter, and interviews, right?” Ryan reminded him warily. 

“You know what?” Pete said, “I don’t really give a fuck.” For a minute, the only thing that could be heard on both ends was the sound of them breathing. Pete broke the silence. “Where are you?” 

Ryan bit his lip. “I’m- I’m just at home.” He wrinkled his brow. “Why?” 

“Okay,” Pete said cryptically, before abruptly hanging up the phone. 

***

Ryan was startled by the sound of someone knocking on his front door. His heart leapt in his chest. He knew who he hoped was at the door, but he wasn’t about to let himself hope for anything yet. It never turned out well. 

He slowly opened the door, revealing Pete on the other side. His hair was disheveled and he appeared as if he had just rolled out of bed. He smiled brightly, if not a bit nervously, at Ryan. “Can I come in?” he asked hesitantly. 

Ryan nodded shakily, not trusting his voice. Pete immediately went over and sat down on his couch. He leaned forward so that his elbows rested on his knees and he ran his fingers through his hair. Ryan just stood in the doorway, fingers twitching. He didn’t know what to do, or what to expect. Even though he tried to remain unaffected he could feel his stomach rolling. 

“I don’t know how to say this,” Pete began. It had been years, but Ryan had known Pete well enough to read him like a book. He had watched him fall in love, have his heart broken, hate himself, talk him off a bridge at three am, just to have him do the same thing for Ryan the following week. Every instinct inside of him was alerting him that Pete was terrified. That fact only made him uneasy. Ryan wasn’t someone to be feared - if anything - it was the other way around. 

“In my experience,” Ryan said quietly, sitting on the arm of one of the plush chairs diagonal from the couch. “It’s easier to just get it over with.”

“What if I told you that I had an agenda when getting back in touch with you again.” Pete threw out. He glanced up, and watched Ryan’s face fall blank.

“I would say that’s a pretty shitty thing to do, especially after everything you’ve done. But, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Pete chewed his lip. “What if the agenda wasn’t malicious?” 

Ryan scratched the bridge of his nose before sighing. “Why don’t you just spit it out. I am really too old for this fourteen year old cryptic bullshit.” 

“I love you,” Pete blurted out.

The silence that followed was deafening. “Fuck you,” Ryan finally spoke up, shooting venom into his words. “Fuck you,” he repeated. “Is this a joke? Because it’s really not funny.” 

Pete stood up, and walked slowly over to Ryan, making his motions as careful and non-threatening as possible. “I love you.”

“Stop,” Ryan said, turning away from him. He hated how his voice came out pathetic and broken. “You don’t get to just come in here after five fucking years and just-” He waved his arms around. “And say you love me. That doesn’t mean shit, Pete.”

“I was scared. I didn’t know how I felt, or how to handle it so I ran. I pushed all my problems away instead of dealing with them. It was fucked up, I know that.” Pete reasoned, trying to get even closer to Ryan. Ryan got off the armchair, and backed away. 

“You have no idea what you did to me, do you?” Ryan asked, his voice disbelieving. 

“Ryan I -” 

“You’re lucky I’m still alive,” Ryan said lowly, “because there were a couple of close calls. Because you ‘push away your problems’. Well, I’m sorry I’m a fucking person. You can’t just ignore me for five years, then come back and expect me to forget everything you’ve done.”

“I’m not asking you to forget,” Pete responded immediately. “You have every right to hate me. I’m not asking you to forgive me either.” 

Ryan scoffed. “Then what do you want?” 

“I want you to give me a chance.” 

Ryan shook his head, pushing away from Pete. He waited a few moments before speaking again. “I can’t trust you. Not - not after everything you’ve done. I can’t be with someone I can’t trust.” 

“I love you.” Pete said again, sounding determined. 

It only made anger coil hot and tight in the pit of Ryan’s stomach. He turned around so that he was facing Pete again and clenched his fists at his sides. “If this is what you think love is - that you think in anyway this is how you treat someone you love, then your view of love is pretty fucked up, Pete.” Ryan practically growled. “Maybe if you would’ve said this to me back in two-thousand-fucking-eight, before everything went to shit, maybe something could’ve come out of it. But not now.” 

Pete stepped closer, crowding into his space. “One date,” Pete proposed. 

Ryan wanted to push him away and scream at him a little more. The audacity of Pete: after everything, coming back and saying that he’s in love with him. “How long have you been in love with me?” It’s not what he wanted to say, but he found it coming out anyway. 

“Since the first time I saw you,” Pete answered immediately. 

Ryan snorted. “That’s bullshit. I was an awkward seventeen year old.” 

Pete got even closer, close enough that Ryan could feel his breath on his face, and could look into his eyes. He hated that he still found him beautiful, after everything. It was like a punch in the stomach, bringing him back to all the times he wrote with Pete, watching him with practical heart-eyes. Pete was his idol, and everything he wanted to be. 

Pete hesitantly cupped his face, and Ryan let him, even though everything inside of him was screaming to push him away. “You were so beautiful,” Pete said quietly, like it was a secret. “You were funny, and God, so special.” 

Ryan cringed. “You can’t,” he sucked in a breath, moving Pete’s hand away. “You don’t get to say that to me.”

“Why not?” Pete pressed, following him. Ryan knew once Pete was persistent about something he would never let it go. 

“What about all the times you swore you weren’t gay? What about Ashlee, and Meagan?” Ryan spoke, doing everything to avert Pete’s eyes. 

“What?” 

Ryan sighed. “Shouldn’t you be finding another pretty girl to bide your time with? I mean, fuck, you have two kids, Pete.” 

When Ryan dared a glance up, he saw Pete’s shocked face. “You have no idea, do you?” Ryan crossed his arms, as Pete let out a disbelieving laugh. He took a few steps forward, so that he was invading Ryan’s personal space again. “Have you ever took a second to think that maybe those relationships were all going up in flames for one reason?” Ryan shook his head, frozen on the spot. “It’s been you, Ry. It’s always been you. I just, I didn’t want it to be.” 

“What changed?” 

“I got my head out of my ass,” Pete finished, barely giving Ryan time to finish his own sentence. “My sexuality, and whatever the fuck other people think doesn’t matter. What matters is that I fucking love you. I really wish I hadn’t been a coward for so long.” 

Ryan closed his eyes. “I don’t think I can ever love you again.” 

Pete sucked in a breath, “You loved me before?” 

Ryan choked on a laugh. “If you would’ve asked me to jump, the only thing I would’ve asked is how high.” 

When Ryan opened his eyes again, Pete was staring at him with an expression so tender it made his chest ache. “I missed you,” Pete whispered. 

 

Ryan chewed on his lip before admitting. “I missed you too.” But before Pete could get too cocky he continued. “But I can’t do this Pete. I can’t. You’re fucking Pete Wentz, okay? People would go ape shit, and I don’t want to be your big gay media spectacle. I’m not someone you can experiment with because your other relationships haven’t worked out.”

“You’re not any of that,” Pete protested. “You’re Ryan. Fuck, its always been you. Everyone else was just a cheap replacement for the real thing. I was just too dumb, and in too much denial to notice.” 

Ryan couldn’t help his chest tightening, and his voice wavering. “Five years. You ignored me for five years. How could you be that mean?” 

“I’m sorry,” in Pete’s defense, his voice did sound wrecked. “I’m so sorry. What I did was wrong. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for it.” 

“What do you want, Pete?” Ryan asked, cycling from shock, to anger, to hurt, and then back to anger. “You want me to pretend like nothing ever happened? I can’t do this. And is this why you came here? Is this why you started calling me again? You figured I was lonely and desperate, and would be an easy fuck?”

Pete shook his head desperately, nearly slamming him against a wall. “I've been in love with you since the first moment I met you. I didn't make a move because at twenty-five I was too scared of being gay. I mean being bi is okay as long as it's only above the waist, and it's all fun and games. When things were falling apart I married Ashlee because fuck, it was what we were supposed to do. She was pretty and I was impulsive, and it was fine. But sooner or later I got sick of waking up every morning to her and not you.” 

“So why did you leave me!” Ryan cried, chest tight. “If you loved me so much why did you leave me?” 

Pete took his thumb and trailed it over Ryan’s cheek. He closed his eyes, and felt Pete’s thumb swipe away a stray tear. “I lie awake a lot asking myself the same question. I got pretty sick of never knowing the answer.” 

“I can't play these games, Pete,” Ryan whispered, opening his eyes. “I'm not nineteen with a crush anymore.” 

“And I'm not twenty-eight and a fucking asshole anymore, hopefully.” 

Ryan let in a shaky breath. “I'm sorry, Pete. I know you want me to go on a date, and say yes. But I don't trust you, and I'm not letting this happen all over again. You're gonna move on, and so am I.” 

Pete studied him, his eyes flicking back and forth over Ryan’s face. He felt like he was under a microscope, and it made him want to squirm, in the worst way. “Say you don't love me and I’ll leave.” 

Images of the last time Pete had done that flooded into his brain. 

_“Tell me you love him. That you’d rather be with him, and I’ll leave.”_

He couldn’t do this again. He couldn’t. He couldn’t let Pete in again just to have him use it all to his advantage and rip him to shreds. 

Ryan let out a strangled choked noise in the back of his throat. “Get out, Pete.”

“Just say it,” Pete’s voice was strained. “Say you don't love me and I'll be your friend. Fuck, I'll be your best friend. But tell me you don't have feelings me.” 

Ryan clenched his teeth. “If you wanna be my friend, you’ll get out.”

Pete seemed to sense he was losing. He stayed crowded in Ryan’s body bubble for a few more tense seconds before pulling back. “I'm not giving up on you, Ross. I hope you know that.”

Ryan turned around, so he didn't have to face him, and so he didn't have to mask his expression. “Say hi to Patrick for me.” Ryan said, wincing at his own formal tone. 

He refused to turn around until he heard footsteps and the door clicking softly behind him. 

***

“Have you been on Twitter?” Dan asked over the phone. 

Ryan raised his eyebrow, and put the phone into the crook of his neck as he was unpacking groceries into his fridge. “When do I ever go on Twitter?” 

“Umm, well, you’ve gained close to a million followers in the past couple days.” 

Ryan nearly dropped the milk as he shoved it into his fridge. “What the fuck?”

“Seriously? Did you not see Pete’s tweets?” 

Ryan closed his fridge, and put his phone on speaker, as he grabbed onto the counter. “Yeah, but that tweet was over a week ago-”

“No, I’m talking about the ones from yesterday.” Dan interrupted. Then he responded to Ryan’s silence. “Dude have you not seen it? Holy shit. The fangirls are going crazy.”

Ryan took a deep breath. “I don’t know if I want to see it.” 

“It’s not bad Ry,” Dan said softly, “it’s actually pretty cute.” 

Ryan picked up his phone with shaky hands. He opened up his safari, and typed in the twitter url. He had deleted the app long ago, seeing no point in it. He only kept Instagram around so he could show off how cute his dog was. It prompted him to log in, and he held his breath throughout the whole process, until he was pulling up Pete’s page. He scrolled down, trying to see if his twitter handle was mentioned at all. 

_@petewentz: RT @panicatthebadlands: “@petewentz who’s your favorite member of panic! >_<” definitely gotta be @thisisryanross, (hes the hot one)_

_@petewentz: RT @panicatthebadlands: “@petewentz are you saying ryan ross is hOT PETER” maayyybbeeee ;)_

_@petewentz: RT @geefrickenwa7: “@petewentz is ryan cuter in person, cuz he looks pretty cute” eveeenn cuter than that_

_@petewentz: RT @trohshoe: “@petewentz: are you and meagan officially divorcing? Or is it just rumors?” We are in the final stages of divorce. She’s great, and all is well._

_@petewentz: RT @fuckthestump: “@petewentz: i hope you know i totally ship Pete/Ryan now” haha, me too._

Ryan was hitting Pete’s contact on his phone before he could really process what he was doing. He stood in his kitchen, with his groceries half unpacked, waiting for Pete to pick up the phone. It rang mercilessly. Right when he was about to hang up, Pete’s voice clicked on the other side. “Ryan?” 

“When you said you loved me, and that you’ve always loved me, did you mean it?” It’s not what he wanted to ask, or even how he wanted the conversation to go, but he found the words falling out of his mouth anyway. 

“Yes. I meant it,” Pete replied without any hesitation. “I love you, Ryan.” 

Each word felt like a punch in Ryan’s stomach. “God, Pete,” he breathed, closing his eyes. He felt shaky all over, like his world had been titled on an axis. “You can’t just go and tweet about me, okay? You don’t honestly think calling me cute a couple times is gonna have me swooning in your arms, do you?” 

“No,” Pete said after a minute. “For the record, that’s not what I was trying to do. You’re not that easy.” 

“Fuck you,” Ryan said vehemently, “you’re right I’m not that fucking easy.”

“You didn’t let me finish,” Pete cut in. “That’s what I love about you. You’re complicated, and I could never get bored of you.” 

Ryan sighed. “I’m not an enigma, Pete.” He laughed without humor. “I’m not some puzzle that’ll be fun to solve. I’m a human being. Trust me, you’ll get bored of me eventually.” 

“If there was anyone on the planet I would want to get bored of, it would be you.” 

Ryan groaned. Pete was relentless, and he lathered on the charm and wooing so much. Ryan was surprised he hadn’t come home to bouquets of flowers lining his apartment. “Pete, just stop. You haven’t thought about this. You don’t want me. I’m not some nineteen year old genius kid with a band anymore. Fuck, I’m thirty years old, I have no job, and the only things that keep me around half the time are my dog, and my plants.” 

“I want to be one of those people keeping you around,” Pete told him softly. “God, I miss you, and I want to stop being so dumb. I want to wake up to your face every morning. I want to watch TV with you at night, and you’ll stick your feet under my legs because they’re always freezing no matter what. I want to take you out on dates, and see you smile. I want to hold your hand when we walk down the street. I want you to make me laugh again, and God-” Pete cut himself off, “I just want you, Ry. I want you to meet Bronx, and Saint.” 

Ryan stiffened. “I’m not meeting your kids, Pete.” 

“Why not?” 

Ryan snorted, “Are you kidding me? I’m literally the worst person to have around kids, period. I’m a walking human disaster, I’ll probably drop them, or make them cry, or say all the wrong things-” Ryan stopped when he heard Pete laughing on the other end. “Are you laughing at me?” 

“Ryan, my kids are going to love you. I love you, and they’re like half of me, so.” 

Ryan slid down so he was sitting against the wall with his knees hugged to his chest. “That is literally the stupidest argument I have ever heard before in my life.” He picked at a hole in his jeans. “What does Brendon got to say about all of this?” 

“You know, I don’t really talk to Brendon anymore.” 

Ryan gnawed on his lip. “That’s surprising.” 

“I’ve grown up, Ry,” Pete said sadly. 

Ryan wrapped his arms around his torso. “Keep wooing me.” 

“What?” 

Ryan took a deep breath. “I’m not saying yes to anything, not even close. I still can’t trust you. You hurt me pretty bad, and a lot of the things you did were fucked up but - keep wooing me.” 

Before Pete could respond, he hit the red hang-up button on his phone. He slumped his head against the wall, then buried his face into his hands. His chest and throat were tight, and aching, like his heart was about to explode. He didn’t know what he just invited into his life, but he knew that he had missed Pete’s voice on the phone more than he would like to admit. 

***

After calling Pete, he had made a habit of texting Ryan every morning and every night. Sometimes Ryan would engage him in conversation, because fuck, he had missed him. Other times, he would just turn off his phone. But he couldn’t control how his stomach swirled whenever he saw the messages from Pete when he turned it back on. 

He didn’t usually watch _Access Hollywood_. In fact, he loathed shows like that. All they do is bash on celebrities, and talk about what they’re wearing and eating. Like he actually gives a fuck why Angelina Jolie is suddenly eating nothing but kale and egg whites. But it was seven-something on a Thursday night, and he was bored out of his skull. He happened to be channel surfing, when he saw Pete’s face suddenly fill the screen. 

A plastic blonde girl with a champagne colored dress was smiling, and eagerly talking about the paparazzi photo of Pete that apparently had been taken the night before. He was leaving some sort of hotel in New York, or maybe Chicago, but that wasn’t the focus of the photo. He was wearing a shirt with the words, “I  <3 Ryan Ross” clearly emblazoned on the front. It was crudely drawn with sharpie, like Pete had done it randomly in five minutes. Ryan wanted to die a little bit. 

Before Ryan could even process that, the girl was asking just “who exactly is Ryan Ross?” with a bright smile. Up came a picture of Ryan, from fuck, at least two or three years ago, placed right next to the one with Pete. Ryan swore, his eyes going wide. Fuck. What the fuck was Pete doing? 

He scrambled off his couch to go get his phone off its charger. He turned it on, watching the apple logo load across the screen. After what felt like eternity, the screen lit up, and showed that he not only had missed three calls from Pete in the last hour, but also several from Dan as well. Fuck. 

***

_“Fuck, I can’t do this,” Ryan said, pacing the room. They were in Spencer’s garage, getting ready for a band practice. Except, this band practice was going to be a whole hell of a lot different than their normal ones. Pete fucking Wentz’s message on his_ LiveJournal, _alerting him how he was gonna be in LA that weekend, and would love to make the drive down to Vegas to check them out, was fresh in his mind._

_“We’re going to be fine,” Spence replied, sounding bored. He was messing with his drum kit, while Ryan was trying to get his breathing under control._

_“This is so exciting!” Brendon exclaimed, practically bouncing, buzzing with all of the extra energy he never seemed to be able to rid of._

_Ryan stopped pacing, glancing at Brendon. “What if he hates us?”_

_Brendon’s eyes widened, before he shrugged his shoulders, “Then he hates us.”_

_While Ryan fought the urge to squeak, Spencer broke in. “What Brendon is trying to say,” Spencer threw him a meaningful look. “If Pete hates us, then he hates us. He’s one guy. I think we’ve got something good here. You don’t know, he could love us.”_

_“One guy,” Ryan mumbled sarcastically, slipping on his guitar, and began tuning it with shaky fingers. “I mean it’s Pete fucking Wentz, but yeah, just one guy, totally fine.”_

_He heard Spencer sigh distantly, and was about to retort, when the door leading into the garage opened. It revealed Pete, dark straightened hair, eyeliner, tattered jeans and everything. He gave them a smile before stepping into the room, carefully maneuvering himself around the trapeze of cables littering the floor._

_Pete made his way over to Ryan, offering him his hand. Ryan carefully put on a blank expression, and shook his hand firmly. “You must be Ryan. I’m Pete, it’s nice to meet you.” Ryan nodded, not wanting to say anything and sound stupid. Pete continued anyway. “I think your mom offered me like, four different dishes on the way from the kitchen to the garage.”_

_Ryan was used to this, but it didn’t stop his stomach from coiling, and twisting his mouth into a self-deprecating smile. “Ginger isn’t my Mom. This is Spencer’s place,” he gestured back to Spencer who was sitting behind the drum kit._

_Pete nodded, “Well, at any rate, it’s nice to meet you guys.”_

_Brendon practically bounded over to him, all bright smiles, and sunshine. “It’s nice to meet you too. I’m Brendon.”_

_Brent nodded at Pete briefly, before turning his attention back to his bass, “Brent.”_

_There was a small awkward silence before Pete spoke up again. “Alright, I’d love to see what you guys have. I heard some of your demos, but they were pretty shitty laptop recorded ones.”_

_They all nodded, sharing brief glances, before settling into their normal positions. “So uh, this is a new song Ryan wrote. We all really like it.” Brendon said, an edge of nervousness crossing over into his voice._

_Ryan bit his lip, adjusting the knobs on his guitar body rather than chancing a look up at Pete. Spencer counted them in, and Brendon began singing, his voice soft._

__“The IV and your hospital bed, this was no accident, it was a therapeutic chain of events…” __

 _It wasn't until about halfway through the song that Ryan felt comfortable enough to start moving around. He was able to look Pete in the eye a few times. Each time, his stomach would tighten, and his mouth would go dry. Pete’s eyes looked dark whenever his eyes trailed over into Ryan’s direction. But it could’ve been his imagination, or a trick of the light._

***  
“I just don’t know if this is a good idea.” Dan said carefully. 

Ryan groaned, putting his face into his hands. “He’s just, he’s unrelenting.” 

Lexi glanced between Dan and Ryan before tucking a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “I think you should go for it.” 

Dan seemed surprised. “After all the shit Pete’s done? After torturing him with all the back and forth, _Vices and Virtues_ , and then ignoring him for five fucking years? He should what? Go crawling back to him?” 

Lexi rested a hand on his shoulder, causing Dan to soften. “That’s not what I’m saying,” she told him sternly, before turning to face Ryan. “Yeah Pete did some pretty fucked up stuff, but I honestly think he’s changed. You don’t have to go _crawling_ back. But maybe you should give him a chance.” Her tone got immeasurably gentler, “I know you still love him.” 

Ryan felt like tearing out his own hair. “He was the first person I ever loved. I don’t think I’ll ever forget him. But-” he paused, licking his lips. “He messed with my head a lot, Lex.” 

“It’s okay to still love him,” she told him with no hint of hesitation, before rubbing his arm. “It’s okay to still want him.” 

Ryan hated the tightness in his stomach when admitting, “I don’t think I ever stopped.” 

“What happens after you’ve been together a little while, and Pete decides that he’s not gay after all. That he actually can’t handle what coming out in a gay relationship means. Huh? It’s not that far off. He’s done it before. He’s only gay from the waist fucking up, right?” Dan broke in, leaning forward. Lexi glared at first, but ended up only pulling her lips into a tight line by the time he finished. 

Ryan let out a shaky sigh. “I don’t think I could handle if he did that again.” Dan opened his mouth to say something, but Ryan cut him off. “But, I don’t know if I could handle not trying again.” 

Later, after they had watched a movie, and Lexi was a little tipsy from drinking a few glasses of the wine they had brought over, Dan gave Ryan a considering look. He slipped on his jacket, and adjusted the collar, while Lexi draped herself against his side, letting her arms hang loosely around his waist. “If you are going to do this,” Dan stated, not hiding at all how much he disapproved, “I hope you know the shit-storm that will come. Stay off social media, for a good fucking while, okay?” 

Ryan nodded, while Dan only seemed to get increasingly more wary. “I mean it, Ross. You’re gonna be getting a shit-ton of death threats, a shit-ton of pissed off teenage girls calling you a homewrecker and not good enough. They’re all wrong. But you don’t need to read any of that negativity.” 

“I got it,” Ryan affirmed, his chest tightening as he realized that he was basically admitting defeat right there. He knew deep down he would cave, but it terrified him to think about what this all meant. 

Lexi launched herself into giving Ryan hug. He still hadn’t gotten used to the fact that she was handsy drunk, but Lexi never seemed to mind it whenever he was stiff and awkward, as long as he didn’t jerk away. She placed a sloppy kiss on his cheek before giggling. “Invite me to your wedding lover-boy.” 

Ryan shook his head, making exasperated eye contact with Dan. “Yeah, you should probably get her home.” 

Dan nodded, pulling her along. “We both expect daily updates,” he informed Ryan firmly, pointing his finger at him. Ryan managed a weak smile as they both stumbled out into the hallway, shutting the door loudly behind them. 

***

_“You were fucking great up there, Ross,” Pete grinned as they came offstage. This was their first widespread honest-to-God tour, and it felt good. The roar of the crowd was still ringing in Ryan’s ears as he stumbled into the wings and backstage, while the crew scrambled around._

_Brendon was practically euphoric as he tackled one of the security guys and hopped onto his back. Even though Ryan still threw up before every show, this one had been, in Pete’s words, ‘pretty fucking great.’_

_Within seconds though, it was just him and Pete. Spencer and Brendon had gone back to the bus, and Brent was probably already hooking up with some sort of groupie. There were still techs milling around, but they didn’t pay them any mind. Pete took a step closer, while Ryan’s breath caught in his throat._

_“C’mon,” he whispered. Before Ryan could sputter out a question, Pete wrapped his hands around his waist. He dragged him down one of the corridors, while he haphazardly passed his guitar onto one of the techs, nearly strangling himself with the strap._

_They stumbled a bit until Pete pulled him into one of the hallways leading to the dressing rooms. It was secluded, and all the noises of the venue became suddenly muted. Ryan’s breath echoed in his ears as Pete shoved him against the wall, invading his personal space. Up close like this, Ryan realized pretty quickly Pete was drunk. Or at least, halfway to getting there._

_His eyes were glazy and his hoodie smelled faintly like beer. It made him want to twist away, bringing up too many memories of fists thrown with his father’s whiskey breath permanently ingrained as something to fear. But then Pete curled his hand around his neck, and then the other pressed tightly against his hip._

_Then Pete was kissing him, open mouthed and dirty. “So fucking hot, God I was hard after the first song,” Pete told him as he kissed down his neck wetly. “So fucking pretty.” Ryan keened, pressing his body against Pete’s desperately, already hard, and rocking his hips. His jeans were pinching his dick uncomfortably, but the friction from Pete grinding on him was enough to make his brain melt._

_“Wait, wait,” Ryan broke away from Pete’s mouth, hands scrambling along his chest. “What about Jeanae?”_

_“We broke up,” Pete told him simply, starting to unbuckle his stupid studded belt._

_Using a skilled maneuver, Ryan switched their places so that Pete was the one who was pressed against the wall, then fell to his knees with a hard thump. It stung, but the thought of having bruised knees tomorrow only made his dick twitch in his pants. He shoved Pete’s hands away, and opened his belt, then unbuckled his jeans with shaky hands. His mouth watered at the sight of Pete hard, and straining in his boxers._

_Pete helped him by shoving his boxers and skin-tight jeans down to around his thighs. Ryan licked up the palm of his hand, making sure to make direct eye contact with Pete the entire time. He wrapped his hand around Pete’s length, and jerked it a few times before wrapping his lips around the head. Pete threw his head back, so it cracked with the wall as he let out a loud groan._

_Ryan went down as far as he could, and swallowed once it reached the back of his throat. He breathed through his nose, and went as far as the dark coarse hairs at the base of Pete’s dick, before pulling back. He set a steady rhythm as soon as Pete clutched his fingers tightly into Ryan’s hair, guiding him into it._

_“Fuck, your mouth,” Pete moaned above him. His neck was arched and exposed, his adam’s apple bobbing erratically as he let out sounds in the back of his throat. “Jesus fucking Christ.”_

_Ryan would smirk if his mouth wasn’t currently filled with cock. He curled his tongue around one of the veins on the underside, causing Pete to jerk his hips forward. Ryan pulled off for a second to cough. His lips were red and raw, and spit was dripping down his chin. Ryan felt like he was suffocating in his dress shirt, vest, and scarf that were by now soaked in sweat._

_He unwrapped his scarf, nearly smacking himself in the face in the hurry to get it off. He unbuttoned his shirt, not caring if a few buttons popped off with it. He would worry about it later, when Pete’s dick wasn’t hard, and covered in his own spit - waiting to be sucked - right in front of him. He didn’t even care about getting a hand in his jeans to jack himself off. All he wanted was for Pete to encompass all of his senses. To fill his throat, to taste the salty bitterness on his tongue, and for the smell that was only describable as_ Pete, _to fill his nose._

_He couldn’t help the needy whine that escaped when he shoved Pete’s cock back into his mouth. He took him as deep as he could, and made a show of placing his arms behind his back, looking up at Pete through his lashes. To let him know that it was okay to start fucking his mouth. In fact, it was what he wanted more than anything. For Pete to want him. For Pete to use him, and get off._

_Between Pete thrusting into his mouth, and him pulling on his hair so hard it felt like it was going to come out, Ryan couldn’t breathe. But it felt_ good. _He circled his hips in the air, gasping around Pete’s cock because he was so hard it hurt, and any friction, even just the rubbing of his dick against his jeans felt amazing._

_Pete’s hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat. The straightened red tips looked ridiculous, but insanely hot at the same time. His mouth was open, lips shiny, and what all of Ryan’s wet dreams were made of. Ryan felt Pete pulse inside his mouth, and it let him know that he was close, even though the increasingly higher pitched noises falling from Pete’s lips were also doing the job._

_“I’m close - fuck!” Pete gasped, doing a full body shudder as he came down Ryan’s throat, holding onto his hair with one hand, and grappling the wall of the hall with the other to ground himself. Ryan swallowed it all, with his eyes closed, and only a few streaks spilled out onto his chin._

_When Pete’s dick fell from his mouth, he gasped himself, palming desperately at his dick through his jeans. It only took a moment for him to come in his pants. He had been on the verge ever since Pete had called him pretty._

_After his orgasm he was spent. He slumped against the wall opposite of Pete. His shirt and vest were half taken off and rumpled. His hair was a complete mess, while cum dried on his chin. Not to mention he could feel his own mess drying in his pants. His chest heaved as he attempted to get his breath back, staring at Pete._

_Pete tucked himself back into his pants, and fixed his hoodie slightly. The one he managed to keep on the entire time. Although, it didn’t hide anything about what had just gone on. His sweaty hair, disarrayed clothes, color high on his cheeks, and the languid way his limbs moved were like a blaring neon sign that screamed ‘I JUST GOT LAID’._

_He wouldn’t meet Ryan eyes, opting instead for a small, “that was fun,” before turning around and walking down the hallway. Back to the stage wings, and probably out to the bus, to greet the guys like nothing ever happened._

_“I’m not gay,” his words echoed in Ryan’s head of the last time they had hooked up and he had tried to take it farther than a backstage handjob or alley blowjob._

_“Fun,” Ryan mumbled dryly, wiping at the dried cum on his chin. While watching Pete leave, he could think of a lot more adjectives he thought were more fitting than ‘fun.’ But then again, that’s all he was to Pete. Someone to have fun with._

***

Ryan was rather rudely woken up by the shrill sound of his phone ringing right beside his ear. He opened his eyes blearily, reaching for it. He had fallen asleep in the middle of a heated debate with Dan, and now he was paying the price, by being deafened. 

“Hello?” he rasped, fully expecting it to be Dan giving him shit.

“Hey Ry,” he heard Pete’s voice filter through the small speaker. 

“Pete?” He asked, even though he would recognize his voice anywhere. He rubbed his hands down his face trying to wake up. “What’s up?” 

“What are you doing today?” 

“Uh,” Ryan hesitated, sitting up from the uncomfortable position he had been sleeping in. He had a crook in his neck, and he accidentally put his hand in a dried drool spot. “Why?” He settled on, pulling the phone briefly away from his face to check the time. 9:27. Jesus why was Pete up so _early._

“I wanted to hang out today. If you’re free.”

Ryan sighed, running his fingers through his hair. He glanced around at his messy apartment. “I’m not doing anything.” 

“Your place, or mine?” He could practically hear the sly smile from Pete on the other side. If Pete was there he probably would’ve pinched him, right in the crook of his elbow. 

“Mine,” he replied instantly. It was home turf. He didn’t want to go over to Pete’s house and be a fish out of water. It was easier to control the situation from his house. 

“Okay, I’ll be over in a little bit, baby.” Pete told him, before hanging up. 

Ryan stared at his phone for a minute before rolling his eyes, and then groaning. _Baby?_ Seriously? He figured he should clean up at least a little bit, so he picked up a few blankets, books, and records that had somehow managed to get all over the place. He put some of the dishes he had left on the coffee table in the sink, and decided to quickly wipe off the counter. On his way back from tossing the washcloth in the laundry pile, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and winced. 

His hair was sticking up every which way, in a tangled disgusting mess. His t-shirt had at least two mysterious-probably-food-related stains on it. Sulkily he went into his bedroom and got out of his pajama pants, opting for a looser pair of jeans instead, and a long-sleeved shirt that had a weird-ass psychedelic picture on the front. He couldn’t remember ever buying the thing, but it was better than looking like he hadn’t showered in months. 

After getting changed, he sat down onto his couch and bit his nails until he heard his doorbell ring. His heart leaped into his throat, and he wanted to curse himself out for acting like such a girl. He made his way over to the door and opened it slowly. 

The open doorway revealed Pete, smiling shyly behind a bouquet of flowers. Ryan’s chest tightened as he stared at them. It was an assortment of yellows, reds, and whites. Pete thrusted them in his direction. Ryan took them, holding them in awe for a few seconds before muttering, “Let me go put these in water.” His voice wasn’t any louder than a whisper. 

His cheeks were bright red as he stumbled around his apartment looking for something to put them in. He managed to find a painted vase on one of his bookshelves, and filled it with water, while Pete stepped into the entryway unsurely. He closed the door behind him. Ryan focused on the task at hand a little to intently, carefully placing the flowers in the vase. They were beautiful. 

When Ryan was finished he turned around slightly, only to realize that Pete was right behind him. “Do you know what they mean?” He asked, tone soft. 

Ryan glanced back at the flowers before slowly shaking his head. Pete urged him to turn back around, so he was facing the flowers once again. “The red,” he whispered, “represents love.” Ryan felt his hands rest lightly against his hips. “The yellow,” he continued, “represent loyalty and devotion.” His breath was tickling Ryan’s neck and it was slowly driving him insane. “And the white, is for love neglected.” 

Ryan cleared his throat, breaking the atmosphere. “Thank you - for the flowers.” 

Pete pulled away, and ran his fingers through his hair, before stuffing them into his jean pockets. “So, do you wanna watch a movie?” Pete asked awkwardly. 

Ryan gave him a small smile, acting as natural as possible. “Sure, I found a whole collection of Wes Craven movies while cleaning out some of my shit a few weeks ago. I completely forgot I had them, we can marathon them.” 

He watched, carefully making sure his face was blank, as Pete paled. “I mean, yeah,” he said weakly. 

There was only about two more seconds Ryan could take before he started laughing. “Your face!” he cackled. 

“Oh fuck you,” Pete replied, even though there was no bite in it. 

“I think I got _Bridget Jones’s Diary_ somewhere around here, uh, lemme try and see.” Ryan concedes, walking over to the shelf by the tv that was the home to almost all of his movies, and some of his books. Of course the film was on the bottom shelf, so he bent all the way down to retrieve. When he turned around triumphantly, he noticed Pete staring at him, his eyes going back up to his face comically late. Ryan found himself blushing, and made his way over to the tv. “I'm just gonna put in the movie now.”

After beginning the movie they both awkwardly sat on the couch. They sat about a foot away from each other and Ryan almost wanted to laugh at how awkward and ridiculous the whole situation was. He waited a few seconds after Bridget catches Daniel cheating to stick his bare foot under Pete’s thigh. 

Pete immediately turned to look at him, but Ryan kept his face on the screen, although he couldn't help his mouth quirking up. Truth be told, his feet were freezing - and always were - so to be pressed against Pete’s warm thigh was practically heavenly. 

Throughout the movie Ryan felt Pete get closer and closer. His heart hammered in his chest everyone the couch crinkled under his movements. When he set his hand down onto the cushion without much thought, his throat closed upon feeling Pete’s hand brush against his. They were so close that they were nearly holding hands. 

Ryan was hyper aware of himself, and waited for Pete to make a move, wondering if he would. At this point, he didn't know if he wanted him to or not. If you would've asked him a couple weeks ago, Pete would've been a sore spot. A painful part of his past that he didn't need reminding of. But now that Pete was next to him, as intense as ever, with his handsome smile and magnetism - he could remember in vivid detail why he had fallen in love with him. How losing himself in his manic energy was so easy. 

He didn't realize he was staring until Pete’s head moved and suddenly his gaze wasn't locked on the side of his head anymore, but his eyes. Ryan didn't dare move. He couldn't even if he wanted to, he was frozen. The moment seemed to last forever, until Pete began to lean in. Lost for a moment, Ryan let him. But before Pete could kiss him, Ryan looked down, cutting off access to his mouth. He didn't want to look at Pete because he knew hurt would be written all over his expression. Although, a sick twisted part deep in the back of mind was kind of glad that Pete was getting the other end of the stick. 

“We can't.” He whispered. He felt as if him and Pete were in a bubble, and that if he raised his voice, even in the slightest, it would pop it. 

“But we can.” Pete urged, his voice mirroring Ryan's.

Ryan finally looked up. When he did, Pete leaned forward and placed his hand delicately against Ryan’s cheek. Ryan placed his hand over Pete’s, and removed it. The gesture was so tender that it made his chest ache. “You hurt me, Pete. You hurt me so bad that I was scared for years to ever fall for someone. God, even Brendon said it was like being with someone who wasn't fully there. After everything you did, I can't just let myself open up to you again. I can't, Pete.” 

“I'm gonna win you over, Ross.” Pete told him determinately. “One way or another. Even if it takes fifty years.”

Ryan let out a small groan. “That's the thing Pete. I'm not something to be ‘won over’. I'm not a trophy, or a prize. I'm a person, not-” he paused, thinking for the right word. “I'm not a point to be proven.”

“No,” Pete agreed. “You're so much more than that.”

Ryan turned his head to see the credits of the movie had finished rolling and was now playing the menu. He bit his lip. “It's getting late, you should probably head home.” 

Pete pressed his lips together. “Tell me what I have to do. You name it, and I'll do it.”

Ryan sighed, rubbing the piece of skin connecting the bridge of his nose to his forehead. “It's not about actions, or saying the right words. It's about the fact that I continuously let you in, only to have you fucking stomp all over that. I can't trust you, Pete. I can't trust that you won't decide I'm not worth it, and leave me. I mean, you betrayed me.” 

Ryan was silent, all the pain and heartbreak coming back in waves. “You told me you weren't gay and couldn't love me while you had your dick up my fucking ass. You can spew all this shit about how you didn't know how to handle your feelings, but Pete? You were a grown ass man, not some kindergartner throwing rocks at their playground crush. You never stood up for me. I can't be with someone who does that.” 

Pete didn't say anything, his mouth forming a tight line. “I'm sorry for all the times I hurt you. I'm not trying to make excuses. I love you, I've always loved you. Every time I said I didn't love you or wasn't gay I was lying. Because I'm a fucking idiot.”

“I want to trust you.” Ryan told him, his voice small. “I want to trust you so bad it hurts. But you're Pete fucking Wentz, and I'm just the guy from _Panic_ that everyone hates. You don't want me. I know your fans sure as hell don't want you to want me.” 

“Well they're wrong,” Pete responded immediately. “They're kids who will believe anything they're told. I want you more than I've wanted anyone else.” 

Ryan’s heart hammered in his chest, and could practically feel the tension between them. They were only inches apart and Ryan could feel Pete’s breath against his lips. When Pete leaned forward, he couldn’t find the self-control to pull away. There was a terrifying moment of limbo before his eyes closed and Pete’s lips brushed against his. It was soft, and gentle. Not rushed or hurried, like most of their previous kisses had been. He found himself opening his mouth to let him in. The kiss lasted for about a minute before Ryan pulled away. 

It felt as if every nerve ending in his body was thrumming. But he couldn't do this. He couldn't. “You should go,” he said again, his voice tight. 

“Ryan-” Pete started. 

“Lemme get your jacket,” is all he could say, standing up. He walked over to the coat rack with weak limbs, and pulled out Pete’s leather jacket with shaking hands. When he turned around, Pete had gotten off the couch and was now standing behind him. 

He looked so tortured, despite everything Ryan found that all he wanted to do was smooth out the wrinkles of worry on his face. He handed Pete his jacket, then stuffed his hands in his pockets so Pete wouldn't see them shaking. Pete put on the jacket, but stared at Ryan for a heated moment. 

“This was nice,” Ryan said lamely, the loaded silence was suffocating and starting to make him feel as if he couldn't breathe. 

Pete sighed heavily, and opened the door. But before he stepped out into the hallway Ryan’s stomach dropped in panic. He grabbed onto Pete’s arm urgently tugging him back. Pete’s eyes widened as he stared at Ryan confused. Ryan didn't know what his intentions were, and flushed at how desperate, for a second, he seemed. 

After watching Pete’s face briefly, he leaned over. “Drive safe,” he whispered. He gave Pete a slight shove, sending him out the door. Pete hesitated a moment, giant grin on his face before shutting the door behind him. 

Ryan tried to ignore his own grin, and the blood pounding in his ears. 

***

**“ _Pretty. Odd._ being the second studio album from the band _Panic at the Disco_ , is nothing short of a disappointment.”**

**“I liked _Panic_ because it was dark, but they covered it by sounding theatrical, mixed with the bite of rock.” Says a fan. “I was so excited for _Pretty. Odd._. But now they’re pushing this happy hippie image.” She leans in, almost conspiratorially. “I think it’s mostly from Ryan.”**

**“The one thing you had was being able to write good music. But clearly you can’t do that anymore, so why don’t you just go kill yourself?”**

_“Ryan?” There was a loud tumbling noise. “Fucking hell, Ryan?”_

_Ryan moved his gaze from where it was staring at the carpet, and blinked hazily to see Pete making his way into his apartment, tripping over a few things in the process. When he was finally safely inside he plopped down next to Ryan, who was sitting on the floor, back resting against his ratty couch._

_“What are you doing here?” Ryan managed to ask, without slurring his words too much._

_“I was under strict orders to make sure you were alive.” Pete told him, trying to go for a light expression, but failing miserably._

_Ryan rolled over, his shaking hands clasped around a half-empty pack of cigarettes. His lighter was next to it, so he lit one and breathed out a puff of smoke. “Unfortunately,” he said dryly._

_He offered the pack to Pete, who shook his head. “If I come home smelling like smoke Ashlee will actually kill me.”_

_Ryan huffed on a drag, pretending that he didn’t want to wince every time he heard Ashlee’s name fall from Pete’s lips. “Good, maybe I’ll see you in hell.” Then he took the cigarette out of his mouth so he could take a swig from the whiskey bottle, that was nearly empty, at his feet._

_When he did Pete tugged it out of his grip. “If you’re drinking, then so am I.”_

_Ryan put the cigarette back in between his teeth and gave Pete a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “The more the merrier.”_

_They sat in silence for a while before Ryan stubbed his cigarette out on the carpet. It left a small circular burn mark. The silence carried on before Ryan broke it. “You should fuck me.”_

_Pete choked on a drink from the whiskey bottle. He hit his chest a few times before glancing over at Ryan wildly. “Ryan, you’re drunk.”_

_Ryan hummed. “Maybe. But you should still fuck me.”_

_Pete sighed heavily. “I’m not going to fuck you when you’re drunk.”_

_Ryan’s face was blank. He may not be great at writing music anymore, but there was one thing he knew how to do, and it was use his body. So he climbed into Pete’s lap. Pete’s hands came to rest on his hips almost on autopilot. “I’m not that drunk.” he tried to reason._

_Pete gave him a warning look, but Ryan pressed on. “You gonna tell me that you’re not gay again? Because I don’t know, Pete,” he brought his mouth up to Pete’s ear. “You seem to like it when I’m sucking your cock.” Pete continued to not say anything, but Ryan knew his resolve was weakening. “C’mon, want you to fuck me.” He wrapped his arms around Pete’s neck, making sure his words were low and lewd. “Want to feel you for days.”_

_At that Pete’s breath hitched, and then he was grabbing Ryan by his wrists, and flipping them over so he was on top. He pinned Ryan’s hands above his head, and held him down so hard that Ryan could feel the carpet chafing against his skin. Pete started unbuckling his gray belt with practiced ease. Ryan tried to keep his breathing steady._

_“You want me to fuck you?” Pete asked, but it clearly wasn’t a question. He slid the belt from its loops on his dark jeans and tied it around Ryan’s wrists. “You’re not gonna touch.”_

_Ryan parted his lips, squirming against his bounds, and realized how vulnerable he was now in nothing but a t-shirt and boxers. Pete tugged off his own shirt so Ryan got to see the toned chest, littered with tattoos. He couldn’t get the best look because of how dark the lighting was in the room. The only thing illuminating them was a crack of sun coming from one of the curtains Ryan hadn’t closed all the way. It lit up a strip of Pete’s chest, and a part of his cheek as his body loomed over Ryan’s._

_Pete then tugged off his jeans so he was only wearing boxers. Pete traced his hands over Ryan’s slender hips, and Ryan couldn’t help himself but spit, “Do you fuck Mikey like this?”_

_Pete’s gaze flashed up in an instant. “Shut up,” he snarled before pulling Ryan into a bruising kiss. Ryan whined around Pete’s tongue, but kept going, egging him on. “You tie him up?” Ryan asked when Pete broke away for air. “Do you want to call me Mikey while you fuck me? Huh?” His chest was tight, and he didn’t know if it was from bottled up anger, lack of air - or something else._

_Pete’s voice was low. “Do you want me to gag you too?”_

_Ryan shut his mouth, and Pete grinned, ferally. He looked around the room. “Got any fucking lube?”_

_Ryan nodded, “Yeah it’s in my bedroom though. Uh, the top drawer in the nightstand.”_

_Pete got up and made his way over to Ryan’s bedroom. Ryan could barely hear the sound of him rummaging over the pounding in his head, and the blood rushing through his ears. When Pete came back in he didn’t waste any time pulling off Ryan’s boxers, leaving him exposed. HIs thin t-shirt was the only thing keeping his modesty._

_His dick was hard, and he hated that despite everything he was still attracted to Pete. Pete covered his fingers in the lube, and spread open Ryan’s thighs. He shoved two fingers in right off the bat, scissoring them roughly. Ryan whimpered, sub-consciously trying to move his hips back from the burn and the intrusion. “Fuck,” his voice broke. “Easy, I’m not a whore like Mikey.”_

_Pete growled, pressing in even rougher, “You can fucking take it. Don’t act like a blushing bride when you were begging me to fuck you not even five minutes ago.” He crooked his fingers causing him to hit Ryan’s prostate. Ryan keened, slamming his head back against the carpeted floor. He could barely stop the choked noises coming out of his throat every time Pete brushed over that spot._

_After a few minutes of torture, Ryan managed to heave, “I wanted you to fuck me,” He gasped against the dirty carpet as zings went through his entire body. “So fuck me. Unless you’re too scared of being gay.”_

_Pete pulled out his fingers, and spread some of the lube from the bottle onto his cock. He lined himself up and then slammed into Ryan, causing him to cry out loudly, his eyes screwing shut. “I’m not,” Pete told him, words like venom. He was holding onto Ryan’s already bound wrists and dug so hard into the skin Ryan swore he was close to drawing blood. “Fucking gay.”_

_Ryan winced, squirming as Pete slammed in relentlessly. “Your dick in my ass seems pretty gay.” He quipped, his voice strained._

_Pete just dug into his wrists even tighter, and slammed into him so hard that his eyes watered. They were both sweaty and their skin slipped together after every thrust. Pete’s hips started stuttering and Ryan could tell he was close. But he was on fire, and felt like he was going to explode. He didn’t even know what he wanted anymore. All he felt like doing was curling up into a ball and sobbing._

_A sound like a sob came out, but it sounded enough like a moan that it didn’t register. Ryan didn’t want him to stop. He didn’t. But Pete had to know. He-_

_“I love you.” Ryan said, his voice wrecked. He shut his eyes so Pete wouldn’t see the tears there. He didn’t want to see Pete’s face. The silence following his words was answer enough. Ryan felt like someone had cut open his chest, and took out all of his vital organs. Leaving him raw and bare._

_Pete buried his face into Ryan’s neck, his hot breath made the younger one shiver. With a loud groan he came, and Ryan could feel his come inside of him, filling him up, but it didn’t make him feel anymore whole. He thought having Pete inside of him would make him feel more like a person - more alive. But it didn’t. It just made him feel raw, used and dirty._

_When Pete pulled out he flopped over so he was lying next to Ryan, chest heaving with the effort of his heavy breaths. Ryan wasn’t hard anymore, and coming now was the last thing on his mind. After a few seconds Pete sat up, and untied the belt from around Ryan’s wrists. Ryan kept his eyes closed, not wanting to see. Not wanting to feel anymore._

_But eventually he opened his eyes, and found his boxers which had been discarded on the floor, with shaking hands. He slipped them on. He could taste bile in his throat and regretted everything. He just wanted back what Pete had taken - whatever that was._

_Pete tugged on his clothes with the same haste Ryan had. He sat down next to him, and they suddenly were mirroring the same position they’d been in only a little bit before the whole ordeal. Pete took in a shaky breath before speaking. “Ashlee’s pregnant.”_

_A kickdrum went off in Ryan’s stomach and chest._

_“I’m gonna be a dad, and I’m.” Pete made a sound then that sounded more like a frightened animal than human. “I’m so fucking scared, Ry.”_

_Ryan didn’t respond. He didn’t want to respond. He wasn’t even angry he was just - defeated. Pete wasn’t his, Pete wasn’t ever going to be his. He was just a quick fuck whenever Pete was lonely. He wasn’t. He wasn’t anything._

_“See you around.” Pete whispered after he stood up. He only hesitated for a moment before he left the apartment. The sound of the door closing softly behind him echoed louder in Ryan’s head than a slam ever could._

**Author's Note:**

> I really appreciate comments. Tell me what you think. It gives me even more encouragement to continue :) xx


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